


The Spaces in Between

by queensmanor



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Girls Kissing, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Introspection, Kissing, Novella, One Shot, Romance, Volume 8 (RWBY)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queensmanor/pseuds/queensmanor
Summary: Processing earth-shattering moments is key to moving forward. Unless they merely wish to exist rather than live, one cannot bulldoze through life. Bleeding hearts will not allow it. In an abandoned Mantle cafe that offers shelter and concealment amidst chaos, Weiss Schnee and Ruby Rose come to terms with some of the rockier parts of their paths. Perhaps through admitting to one another unspoken truths, something new and precious can blossom?
Relationships: Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee
Kudos: 43





	The Spaces in Between

**Author's Note:**

> My first and certainly not my last RWBY fic. RWBY has been my top favorite series for years now, and the dynamic of these two characters has always been one of the most endearing to me.
> 
> Per standard, a handy dandy disclaimer before the fic. RWBY characters are the property of the gone but not forgotten Monty Oum and Rooster Teeth. I'm simply someone who appreciates the fictional world of RWBY and its characters.
> 
> With that, I hope you enjoy the fic!

Porcelain fingers gingerly rest against the unembellished handle of a lone mug. Save for a hairline crack - a nearly indiscernible one at that - at the rim of the mug, the object is in an impressive condition. Just by looking at it, one wouldn’t be prompted to presume that it’s seen graceless treatment of an unprecedented sort. That thought swiftly places a minuscule smile upon feminine lips.

No, it’s not a funny thought per se. It’s just that the irony accompanying it is rather amusing in an ineffable way. It’s not the type of amusement that elicits hearty laughter. Nor is it a type of amusement born from cruelty. It’s a type that she and only she can comprehend. Like no one else can, she understands that irony. The blemished mug is practically a mirror of herself. Both bear semi-distinguishable marks that forbid their outward appearances from knowing immaculacy.

Though, perfection is nonexistent, is it not? She sees now what she couldn’t acknowledge back before her icy heart had begun to thaw due to the warm kindliness of those she now calls her teammates. Her experiences with them have irrevocably afforded her the awareness of perfection’s illusory nature.

Regardless, neither the appearance of the mug containing chocolatey liquid nor her own appearance betray the extent to which either of them have been mistreated. The beige mug’s mistreatment was undoubtedly unintentional. Likely caused by disconcerted people fleeing the vacant establishment upon receiving word of heat’s inauspicious departure from Mantle.

Her mistreatment, on the other hand, has most definitely been deliberate and nefarious. She knows she cannot erase from the past the countless moments of callousness that she’s been shown by her own kinfolk, but she can derive gratification - however ephemeral - from the mere fact that she’s seen to the arrest of her scheming father.   
  
Her smile wanes as she considers the vexing and perturbing odds of Ironwood permitting the release of the loathsome man. Would he? Now that the general has made abundantly clear that he’s willing to do the unconscionable just to appease his own fear, what’s to stop him from letting loose the unscrupulous Schnee if doing so seems beneficial to him?  
  
Nothing.  
  
Before she can dwell on that troubling thought, the unoccupied seat across from her abruptly finds itself claimed. She’s roused from her musings by a pair of silver eyes and a courteous yet restrained smile.

Once upon a time, that smile would have been impossibly wide and those ashen eyes would have held untold exuberance. The Rose has bloomed since her time as a hyperactive student. Back then, she seemed wholly undeserving of the honor of being their team’s leader. While she’s undeniably blundered and misstepped during the time in between, her status as leader now makes far too much sense. Not that the snowy-haired huntress would ever admit so aloud.

Softly, the bright Rose speaks to initiate a conversation.  
  
“People usually expect hot cocoa to be hot.”  
  
At that, she can’t help but arch a monochromatic brow. While the statement that instantaneously surfaces in her mind in response isn’t intended to be unkind, the unyielding dryness that seeps into her voice as she utters it doesn’t exactly offer much in the way of warmth.

“Yes, well, people usually don’t expect to drink hot drinks when heat isn’t available. We all have to settle.”

Some people might immediately turn to silence and perceive her words as a method of terminating discussion, but Ruby isn’t daunted so easily. Instead, that tiny smile of hers widens just a fraction. Only an eye accustomed to the facial expressions of the optimistic adolescent would be able to espy the subtle difference.

“I know, you’re right. How does it taste?”  
  
Though she willfully refrains from rolling her eyes at the absurd question, she realizes that she hadn’t at all been paying mind to the flavor of the abnormal concoction. Slowly, she lifts the rim of the cracked mug to her awaiting lips before taking a modest sip. Whilst grimacing and swallowing, she returns the mug to its idle position on the wooden table.

“It tastes like chocolate, and water. Do you want the rest?”

Surprisingly, the younger huntress shakes her head from side to side to decline the offer. The unexpected answer likely has nothing to do with germs as the youth hasn’t exactly been known to be the most hygienic person in the world.

“No, thanks. You won’t have anything to drink if I do.”  
  
It’s then that the elder huntress recognizes the signs of solicitude occupying silver eyes. Being the conscientious person she is, the Rose is always concerned for the wellbeing of those she deems friends and family. Not a moment goes by in which that’s untrue.

However, there’s a difference between that and the Rose being more actively concerned in a moment for someone she feels she has reason to fret over. Right now, the latter is transpiring, and the individual she’s concerned about? Well, the answer really couldn’t be more apparent.

This sudden realization affixes an unusually soft and reassuring smile to the lips of the youngest Schnee daughter. She’s undeniably touched by the kindness with which her team leader showers her. It’s one of her favorite things about the amiable teen.

“Ruby, I’m fine.”  
  
Perhaps a tad embarrassed to have been read like a book, the aforementioned huntress glances away. It’s a sheepish gesture that lasts for a fleeting moment.  
  
“I know you don’t like being anywhere near Atlas and I know you didn’t ask to end up on a wanted list. I mean, technically none of us asked to I guess, but you’re probably the last person who expected to. Still, I want you to know you’re doing the right thing.”  
  
Investing little forethought into the act, the erstwhile heiress expels a sigh. The version of herself that she left behind at Beacon the night of its untimely fall certainly would have been dismayed or horrified by the grim prospect of winding up on a list of individuals wanted for detainment.

However, she’s mostly unbothered by it now. She views it as an irritating inconvenience for herself and her comrades on their path to preventing the world from succumbing to the malevolence of their formidable foes, but it’s definitely not something that’s begotten shame within her. They’ve gotten into trouble for good reasons, and that’s ultimately what matters most.   
  
“What we did up there in the city wasn’t the first time we did something some people would consider illegal. It was far from it, and it won’t be the last. I used to think following rules was important. I’m not saying we don’t need laws, but just because something is the law doesn’t mean it’s right. Some people don’t understand that just because they’re ordered to do something doesn’t mean it’s the right thing.”  
  
Momentarily, she thinks to her stoic sister. Winter’s comprehension of right and wrong is far more convoluted than anyone can understand. Even she has trouble understanding the sophisticated woman’s vision at times. She doesn’t doubt that the elder firmly believes herself to be doing what’s right, but her unwillingness to abandon Ironwood even when the man has shown himself to be entirely untrustworthy isn’t admirable.

That devotion may prove ruinous. For her sister’s sake, she fervently hopes it doesn’t bring about lethal consequences, but there’s no denying that that devotion is a problem. In fact, it almost guarantees that she’ll be forced to battle in earnest against the talented woman in order to thwart Ironwood’s plans.

Refraining from following that train of thought, she gives a dismissive wave and continues to speak. This time, she furrows her snow white brows. With as much tact as she can wield, she encroaches on delicate territory. She knows that it may be best to keep silent her concern for the intrepid adventurer, but she finds herself incapable of muting it.

”Like I said, I’m fine. I don’t like being near Atlas, but it’s necessary. I believe in you and I believe in what we’re doing. If anything, I should be worried about you. What Salem said.….just the implications of what she said, I can’t imagine what that was like for you.”

Expectedly, a flash of perturbation darts across the glistening eyes of her companion. Disquieting the girl wasn’t her aim, but it’s not an outcome that she utterly failed to anticipate. Hearing the most powerful force of maleficence speak of one’s deceased mother in an egregiously ominous fashion seems like it’d make for a traumatizing experience, and it seems as if a reminder of the unforgettable experience would reignite one’s trepidation over the matter.

She doesn’t expect the Rose to converse about it. She merely wants the Rose to never go unaware of the inexhaustible compassion that she feels for her. If she wishes to discuss it, ears are available. If the Rose needs a consoling embrace, she’s more than ready to offer up her arms for the girl.   
  
A moment of quietude stretches between them until Ruby hesitantly speaks. From melancholy to apprehension, a cocktail of sentiments is present in her juvenescent voice. Yet, she attempts and fails to fully mask those uneasy feelings.

“I-I’m okay.”  
  
For a moment, she vacillates between expressing doubt in the face of the Rose’s unconvincing words and feigning belief. It’d be more courteous and safer to do the latter as it would prevent any boundaries from being crossed. However, doing so would also contribute to a false notion of the Rose being required to deny herself moments of uncertainty simply because she bears the fundamental burdens that all leaders do.

So, the elder huntress opts to do the former. Tactfully, though.  
  
“You..don’t have to pretend if you don’t want to. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. No matter what happens, we’re in this together until the end, Ruby.”  
  
Without warning, the expressive eyes of her companion fill to the brim with unshed tears. With trembling lips, the girl allows those tears to begin trickling down her soft cheeks.

Heedlessly, the Schnee releases her hold on her tarnished mug, abruptly rises, rushes to the side of the crying adolescent, kneels, and offers her arms should a hug be desired. It’s impossible not to consider for just a brief moment how she’d not have had the courage to initiate such a tender moment prior to her introduction to her genial companion.   
  
Schnees have a tendency to elude, deride, or conceal their own vulnerabilities at all costs. For as long as she can recall, neither of her parental guardians have been excessively fond of expressing familial love through honeyed words or affectionate gestures such as hugs. Certainly not her father. It’s unlikely he’ll ever comprehend the significance of authentic love or be capable of feeling it for anyone other than himself. Her mother? She genuinely understands love and selflessness. She always has in her own ways, but the truth is that she’s not as affectionate as the middle Schnee child has always wished she were.   
  
In the end, neither of her parents are responsible for motivating her to feel comfortable with the notion of showing others compassion through nonverbal gestures. Yang, Blake, and especially Ruby can take credit for accomplishing that feat.   
  
It takes no prompting for the altruistic leader to accept the embrace that she’s generously been offered. Her hold on the woebegone youth is neither overbearing nor barely perceptible. It’s firm yet breakable so as to simultaneously offer the youth a convenient way of ending the moment should it become too much and inform the youth that she’s not without comfort.

For what feels like a long while, they remain that way. Soothingly, she runs the palms of her gloved hands up and down the cloaked back of the weeping one. She feels teardrops rapidly descend upon her shoulder, but she doesn’t mind. How could she? Only when sobs cease mercilessly besieging the Rose does their conversation resume.

“I don’t know what really happened to my mom. After we got our licenses, I asked my uncle about her last mission. I wanted to know if it had anything to do with Ozpin, but he said it didn’t. What Salem said means that he was wrong.”

Uncertain of how to traverse such rocky territory, she poses her queries in a somewhat tentative matter.  
  
“Do you believe her? Do you think she was telling the truth about your mom? Salem wants her enemies divided. Do you think it’s possible she just lied in order to get to you?”

There’s a steady inhale and a tremulous exhale from the Rose before she answers honestly.   
  
“It’s possible, but I don’t think she was lying. I saw my mom when she said what she said. It was like a flash, but it happened. I think..I think I heard her too. I don’t think Salem thinks she has to lie to people to make them feel unbalanced.”

The Schnee knows that she cannot refute that. For the mere appearance of the quintessence of malignancy has proven fruitful in disquieting those made to see it. Skin deathly pale, eyes resembling forbidding pools of magma, and attire as cheerless as night. Her statuesqueness only serves to make her even more intimidating. Her velvety voice holds the promise of hope’s irrevocable extinguishment. She’s truly horrifying.

Yet, pondering that won’t assist them at all in vanquishing her. No, she mustn’t be allowed to trap them in perturbation. She cannot be allowed to claim victory with her violent claws. A victory that would most certainly prove fatal to everyone else inhabiting this chaotic world. Not to mention, the Schnee simply can’t afford to see someone for whom she cares so profoundly be robbed by the mistress of evil.  
  
“Maybe it’s best not to draw conclusions just from what Salem has said. Let’s say she wasn’t lying. You still don’t know the whole story. You shouldn’t let Salem end that story for you. Don’t let her take more from you than she’s already taken.”

At that, the veracious Rose begins to pull away from the hug. Not completely. Just enough so that they’re holding one another while being able to lock eyes. Not because she’s displeased. No, the expression affixed to her face bespeaks immeasurable gratitude. For what? She’s unsure. As far as the elder youth is concerned, she’s done little to nothing capable of rousing such a sentiment within her leader. Then again, the optimist is easily pleased. Nevertheless, the smile adorning the lips of her partner is as visible as it is heartfelt.

“Thanks, Weiss. Not just for talking with me, but for everything. I don’t know how you’re not scared, though.”  
  
At that, she arches an ivory brow once more. Not scared? Oh, how wrong the kind one is.  
  
“Who says I’m not? Honestly, deep down, I’m terrified. I’m pretty sure we all are. Salem is powerful, and heartless. If she could be killed, none of this would be as scary. It’s just…none of us have a choice. Whether we run and hide or fight back, nothing is changing the fact that she’s trying to destroy everyone. If we do fight back though, at least we have a chance of stopping her.”

Should the worst scenario become reality, she’d rather perish alongside those she loves than perish in solitude with the knowledge that she did nothing to prevent such a gruesome fate.  
  
In response to her words, the Rose gives a resolute nod. Her smile widens ever so slightly. Though she’ll not say so aloud, not for the first time does the Schnee think to herself that the reassuring and uplifting sight of the Rose’s benevolent smile is one of her favorites. Perhaps, somewhere along the way, it even became her top favorite sight to behold.

“Right, we have to do this. For ourselves, for the people we care about, and even for innocent people who aren’t able to protect themselves. Still, that isn’t the main or only reason why I’m grateful for you being here. Even though you didn’t like me at first, you decided to believe in me and you care about me. I care about you too, and I believe in you too. I always will, Weiss.”   
  
Expeditiously, a pinkish hue devours the cheeks of the former heiress. For a moment, she’s not sure whether to beam at the Rose or deflect due to a wish to ensure that her unvoiced hopes aren’t accidentally toyed with. Ultimately, she resolves to do the latter. Though, in the process, she unintentionally alludes to that which she means to veil.

Accompanying a casual roll of her wintry eyes, a smirk graces her countenance with its presence. Her tone of voice is undeniably teasing.

“Alright, what sappy romance novel did you steal on our way here?”

Whilst dabbing at the corners of her silvery eyes with petite digits, the Rose smiles and shakes her head.   
  
“No book.”

As the Rose leans forward, the Schnee presumes that she wants to return to the more intimate hug that they partook in moments ago. Instead, seemingly out of nowhere, the mortal personification of kindheartedness places a chaste kiss upon her forehead. She hadn’t dared to hope, but perhaps it’s not so foolish to believe that her feelings are reciprocated. Though this hardly seems like the best time for confessions.

Regardless, blinking thrice, she feels her heart beating like a hummingbird as she seeks confirmation.

“Ruby, are you-?”

Steadily rising from her seat, the aforementioned individual extends her small hand in offering. Whilst doing so, she gives a firm nod. The disarming smile on her face never leaves as she speaks to finish the enquiry in the form of an answer.

”Serious.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading. Kudos and kind comments are deeply appreciated.
> 
> As always, I can be found on Twitter at thehauntedmanda. Come chat about RWBY with me! I do take fic requests.


End file.
